Changfeng blew fiercely, ancient town swayed.
There was a man, standing like a pillar.
"Kneel, or die. Consider it yourself."
Chen Yang pinched his sleeve, even standing downwind, his confidence and aura firmly suppressed the whole scene.
Zhou Zhao gritted his teeth and held on, "Sir, you're going too far!"
Kneel?
Lingjing City was not far away.
The 108 riders of Yan Cloud, as the core strength of Jishan Academy, have always been the representatives of image and face. If they kneel today, where would Jishan Academy's face be?
"Then prepare for battle."
Chen Yang slowly raised a finger, casually pointing toward Zhou Zhao.
Clang!
Behind Chen Yang, a beam of silver light surged up suddenly.
Step forward.
In the void above, the Dongliang Battle Blade streaked out a stream like a star river hanging down.
Zhou Zhao raised his head in horror, instinctively raising his hand to block in front of him.
